


Consequences

by svn_diamond



Category: Dynasty (TV 2017)
Genre: AU, Angst, F/M, Mutual Pining, Sad childhood memories, Swearing, do i care? no not really, impromptu trips to Europe, is this probably out of character? yes, the main pairing is falliam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-10-04 08:58:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17301704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/svn_diamond/pseuds/svn_diamond
Summary: Everyone affected by Culhane's reckless decisions struggles to deal with the aftermath. Fallon wants to take back control of her life.[AU following the events of 2x09]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I know that some of the characters will probably seem out of character, but I just found myself writing all of this down and wanted to post it somewhere, in the hopes that some of you might enjoy it. I obviously took some liberties in writing the characters, since this is, after all, just fanfic, I hope no one minds.

Liam’s eyes opened to the sight of his study bathed in morning light, entirely too bright for his current state of mind. His eyelids were stinging and felt heavy, as if they would snap shut if he didn’t shift his eyes for too long. He stared across the room for a long moment, looking at the shelves stacked with novels. His gaze was empty as his vision was adjusting, and he was reluctantly making a mental recap of last night’s events.

Just as he was about to remember why exactly he didn’t stop at the first glass of scotch last night and just drank the whole bottle, he caught sight of the warm glow of the lamp beside him. _Did I really just pass out and left it on?_ He wondered with slight irritation and became acutely aware of not only a headache, but also soreness in his neck and shoulders caused by the awkward position that he had fallen asleep in.

However, he couldn’t pretend he didn’t remember last night forever. Eventually, he had to think about it. The phone call. Fallon’s shaky voice echoed in his mind, and Liam’s heart twisted painfully. Now that the initial shock had worn off and the reality of Fallon completely cutting ties with him had settled in, all the hurt and pain and regret came crashing over him like an overpowering wave.

Fallon told him it was over. She didn’t want to see him, obviously. After all, she couldn’t even be bothered to show up to the airport and rip his heart apart properly, face to face. Or even hear his voice, since she didn’t let him say anything before she hung up on him abruptly. And yet, was there anything to be said? What could he possibly reply to all of _that_? Beg her to not give up on him? But why shouldn’t she? After all, it wasn’t him that Fallon was engaged to.

He should’ve begged her to at least let him still be a part of her life. Even if he couldn’t be with her, still being able to hear her voice and be around her –even if he could never be more than her… _acquaintance_ — would be better than never seeing her again.

Although Fallon never explicitly said any of this, the message was clear. That phone call was a goodbye, it was the last time he directly heard from her and the finality of it all made him feel empty inside.

Yet, he couldn’t stop himself, and he felt like screaming as his hands reached for the phone and pressed the home button, scrolling through the notifications. _Of course she didn’t call or text again, what was I even thinking? I’m such an idiot,_ he cursed himself bitterly.

If only he hadn’t given her that ultimatum—at least not so soon. He should’ve given her more time, should’ve kept quiet, should’ve accepted being the backup for a bit more and then maybe, just maybe… _No,_ Liam scolded himself, _that was goodbye._ It was time to accept it.

Unsure of how exactly to proceed from then on, Liam decided that making himself a coffee and taking an aspirin would be a proper beginning to his attempt of moving on. After all, he still had a luggage to prepare. Fallon was clearly not thinking about him and he shouldn’t be thinking of her, either.

 

 

_Fallon finds herself straddling Liam, their mouths moving languidly against each other’s and their hips grinding together, slowly. They’re in no hurry, content to just let the pleasure build up. Every time she pulls away and eagerly inhales, Fallon dives in again for more, seeks his lips out repeatedly, like his kisses are the thing keeping her breathing, and not air. Liam’s more than happy to offer her as many as she desires, while his hands roam all over her body, memorizing all of her curves._

_Their tongues are twisting together, a sort of obscene dance that makes pleasure pool in her lower body. Fallon presses closer to him, wants to feel his chest flush against hers. She groans in protest when he breaks the kiss, but the feel of Liam’s mouth sucking at her neck not even a moment later distracts her._

_“Oh, that’s gonna leave marks.” Fallon whispers after taking the time to savor the feel of Liam’s lips kissing up her neck for a long, drawn out moment. “That was my intention.” He exhales, the feel of his hot breath against the bitten, reddened skin making her shudder. She gasps, nails digging into his shoulders._

_Liam drags down the zipper of her dress in a teasing movement that’s just slow enough to make her skin tingle pleasantly in anticipation. The warm touch of his hand right over her exposed skin sends a shiver of pleasure coursing through her body and she sighs softly, a hand threading through his hair as if to encourage him._ God, he just has the softest hair.

_“I’m worried.” She frowns, but it quickly turns into an open mouthed gasp as he pulls her hips closer, creating much needed friction._

_“Forget about it for now.” Liam’s words are a hot whisper against the lace of her bra, tempting her to lose herself into his searing touches. “We still have time before—“_

Fallon wakes up abruptly and struggles to free herself from the choking warmth of her covers. _Worried about what?_ When she finally manages to wriggle out from under the covers, her whole body is burning up and covered in sweat. _Great, another wet dream._ At this point, Fallon’s pretty sure she’d dreamed up every possible scenario of them having sex. She’s lost count of how many dreams she’s had of him in the past month—an unfair amount, especially for someone engaged to another man, that’s for sure. She gets out of bed and exits her – _theirs,_ hers and Michael’s, she reminds herself –bedroom.

As Fallon descends down the stairs, the cool air and the darkness of the eerily quiet manor help take her mind off of Liam’s passionate kisses. 

 

 

Weeks pass by. When she figures out that she can’t put off her wedding any longer, she buries herself in wedding preparations. She orders countless dresses to be delivered to the manor so she can try them on whenever she pleases. She visits wedding venues. She looks into themes for the wedding, she chooses the colors of the decorations, the cake flavor, the type of champagne…

Everything seems to be just perfect. Ideal, even. Even though Michael isn’t even there for most of the decisions—despite her asking him every morning if he’ll be joining her that day and him ditching her 97% of the time—it’s still perfect. She can handle planning the wedding all by herself, that’s not an issue.

Fallon’s seated at her usual seat at the table, swiping on her iPad through various photos of bouquets, when Sam struts in, black and gold Versace hoodie on and everything, and sits down across from her, a plate stacked with a bunch of fresh mini croissants in front of him.

He eyes her for a few seconds, frowning. “Where’s Culhane? Didn’t you say he was gonna help you today?”

Fallon rolls her eyes.

“He couldn’t stay, he was busy.”

Sam chews on his warm croissant for a bit, eyeing her visibly bothered expression. He debates actually saying his next words, but his big mouth wins the battle.

“He’s been busy a lot lately.”

Fallon catches the subtext and her eyes narrow.

“Steven wasn’t around much for your wedding planning either.”

Sam arches one of his eyebrows.

“Steven was looking for Adam in another _country_. What is Culhane—“

“He’s at work.” Fallon snaps and flips the red smart cover over her iPad, suddenly annoyed.

“It’s Sunday. And almost Christmas Eve.”

Fallon gets up from the table abruptly, and prepares to leave. 

“I really didn’t want it to sound like that. I’m just worried for you, that’s all.” Sam quickly adds, feeling guilty.

“Save your sappy concerns, I don’t need them.” Fallon says over her shoulder as she walks away. _Who the hell does he think he is? Judging her fiancé like that?_

Sam sighs. Fallon had been overwhelmed by all of that planning, so he doesn’t let her words get to him. He knows she didn’t mean any of them and that it was only the exhaustion causing her to lash out like that. That, and the fact that her fiancé was barely home.

 

 

The next days are a chaotic mess. Not only does the baby get kidnapped, they also find out Crazy Claudia is his mother, a detail which Alexis conveniently forgot to mention when she arranged for Sam to stumble across the baby in the first place. And if _that_ wasn’t enough, Claudia also wanted her baby back, which wasn’t even surprising considering…well…the circumstances.

That’s how they spend their Christmas, and just as they’re back home, clinking their champagne glasses and staring at the Christmas tree, patting themselves on the back for coming out on top once again, in true Carrington fashion—or, in Cristal and Alexis’ case, delivering a tiny bit of shade to each other—they’re informed that Michael and Jeff just got into a car crash.

The Carringtons can never catch a break, not even on holidays.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, as I said in the first chapter, I took some liberties with the way I wrote the characters, I'm aware of that.

Fallon looked at herself in the mirror, watching the makeup artist work her magic with the slight irritation that a sleepless night of tossing and turning in your bed usually stirs in you. The bags under her eyes disappeared under concealer and her whole face was done in less than 20 minutes –she didn’t have time for anything too extravagant since she was about to go to the hospital and visit Jeff. Michael, she heard –not from him, but rather from Blake—wasn’t at the hospital. God knows where he was. She had tried calling him, but he never picked up. Typical.

Just as she settled into the backseat of the car, her phone buzzed from the pocket of her D&G wool coat. She took it out to see a notification for a text message. _Speak of the devil._

**_Went to see my family. I felt like I needed to._ **

Fallon furrowed her brows. _What the hell? Almost 12 hours had passed since the car crash happened. Where had he been all this time?_ This was getting more and more confusing.

Her frustration at him not even bothering to call her and tell her that he wasn’t coming home got the best of her and she typed a few snarky texts before taking a deep breath and deleting everything. Instead, she decided to settle for an “Ok” that sounded more and more half assed as she re-read the conversation. After a few minutes she opened up the conversation again and begrudgingly sent a “Come home soon” before exiting it and slipping her phone into her purse.

At the hospital, she was greeted with the sight of Monica, her whole body seemingly slumped into a chair, a small cup of coffee from the vending machine held delicately in her hands. She was staring off into space, and Fallon watched her from afar for a few seconds. She obviously didn’t get any sleep either and she still had her makeup from yesterday on her face, which didn’t even slightly obscure the fact that she had been crying –a lot.

Her cousin simultaneously seemed both way younger _and_ a few years older, sitting there, bathed in the white electric light of the hallway, in her blue, faux-fur coat. Fallon made her way towards her, a gift basket full of expensive sweets held in her hands. Monica looked at her, suddenly restless in her chair. Her eyes watered.

Fallon watched Monica’s distressed face and, overwhelmed by a sudden desire to comfort her best friend and cousin, took one of Monica’s hands in hers. Her hand was warm from holding the paper cup, while Fallon’s hands were cold from the winter air.

“He was—he was— _shot_. The doctors say he will definitely recover but—” Monica took in a shuddering breath, holding back her tears, managing to stop them from spilling onto her cheeks. Fallon’s eyes widened, but she reigned in her confusion and didn’t ask further, not wanting to upset her cousin even more.

Monica’s lips trembled and she pointed with her head towards the end of the hallway. “He’s in there. Room 20B.” Her voice was hoarse from crying and from not talking the whole night. Fallon nodded, her own eyes a little bit teary.

She had another short moment of confusion when, as she neared the room that Jeff was in, _Kirby_ of all people exited. They both stared at each other for a long moment, Kirby’s eyes wide and her whole posture screaming deer-caught-in-the-headlights.

“Fallon. I didn’t expect to see you here.” Kirby said after a couple of seconds, her hands wringing together.

“Yeah, I could say the same thing.” Fallon arched an eyebrow and gave Kirby a once over. She still had on her green plaid dress from last night, Fallon noted, so she clearly came there last night. Kirby rolled her eyes at her words, and pushed past her, towards the place where Monica was still seated. _Alright._

Concluding she’d ask later what that was about, Fallon internally shrugged and entered the room. She was greeted with the sight of Jeff lying on the bed, hooked to various medical equipment. His heart rate was stable from what she could tell and his eyes were half lidded. She neared the side of his bed and watched him. He seemed so…tired. He was struggling to stay awake –or even alive, a morbid corner of Fallon’s mind supplied—his eyes were sunken and his mouth was slightly open. His eyes fluttered open and then closed a few times, out of focus. He was clearly on some heavy pain medication.

“Jeff?” She asked, careful so that her voice wouldn’t be too loud. His head moved a little and he looked at her, nodding. His mouth opened.

“Fallon. Fallon… Culhane…”

“What about him? He texted me and said he went to see his family.” Fallon supplied quickly.

Jeff shook his head, the movement evidently painful. Fallon noticed the bandages wrapped all around his chest. He had been shot there, clearly. Or maybe in the shoulder?

“Culhane… is Mike Jones...” Jeff took a deep, but rather shaky breath, something that would have been a yawn if his chest muscles didn’t hurt so badly whenever he inhaled. His eyes betrayed his sleepiness. He was going to slip into unconsciousness again, Fallon suspected. His words made no sense, and she blamed the pain killers for it, but still, she listened attentively.

“What do you mean?” The more words Jeff said, the more confused she got.

“The fire at the club… Ask Monica. Mike… Jones.” Jeff uttered as his eyes slid shut. He fell asleep soon after.

Fallon looked out the window for a few moments. The background noise of all the medical equipment in the room did awaken a sort of unease in her, and she contemplated how horrible it would have been if Culhane had been the one lying there, wounded and barely alive.

Yet, no matter how hard she was trying, the only thing that would come to her mind was _Liam_ being the one hurt.

She pictured him, right there on that bed, his breathing heavy and his consciousness constantly slipping from his own grasp. She thought of herself, sitting by his side for the whole night, _maybe_ even holding his hand—but only because he wouldn’t remember anyway, so he wouldn’t be able to tease her about it when he felt better. Fallon realized a small smile had sneaked on her face and she berated herself for thinking about Liam. Again.

She also found herself deeply unsettled by the thought of Liam being injured, and was irritated at her imagination for not being able to conjure up the thought of Culhane.

After it became clear that Jeff wasn’t going to wake up soon and mumble some more gibberish, she exited the room, shutting the door carefully on her way out.

 

 

Kirby and Monica were waiting for her, and Monica seemed a little bit more at peace. Maybe Kirby’s blind optimism was actually good for once, since it seemed like it rubbed off a little on Jeff’s sister. Monica gave her a small smile while Kirby grinned.

“The doctor just told us that if everything goes smoothly tonight, they might let him go home tomorrow or the day after that.”

Fallon raised her eyebrows. “That’s great news.” She said, Kirby’s enthusiasm a little too much to handle at 9 am after a night void of any sleep.

“Do you guys want to go get a coffee?” Monica offered, unexpectedly. “I’m sick of waiting around in this hallway. Jeff is resting and we should let him be. And none of us slept anyway so I think we could all use some caffeine.”

Fallon shrugged, silently agreeing, and the three of them headed out. It was a little awkward at first, admittedly, considering the three of them had never hung out before, all at the same time, but they adjusted quickly. Monica led the way, walking between Fallon and Kirby and taking them to a nearby café. What was surprising was the fact that it was actually open, considering it was basically the 26th of December. They quickly found a table and flipped through the drinks variety, settling on different kinds of coffee.

Kirby broke the silence after a while. “Jeff was acting so weird last night.” She noted, her nose scrunched up a little in confusion. Fallon perked up at her words, but waited to hear her explain. “What do you mean?” Monica asked, taking a sip of her coffee and clicking her tongue.

“Well, for starters, he mumbled about how Culhane was secretly doing ….deliveries, I think? For this woman named…” Kirby paused, trying to remember.

“Ada. Ada Stone.” Monica said, her eyes wide. 

Kirby nodded, continuing. “Yeah. And he kept saying something about antiques and about how she was blackmailing Culhane, or paying him. Or both. It was really hard to piece together because he kept pausing. _That_ or he thought he was saying some words aloud but actually _wasn’t_. So there were a lot of words missing. But he also said that he followed Culhane last night when he was doing a delivery for Ada. He said that this woman set this company up, made it look like they were receiving a drug delivery… V… Something with V.”

“What? What V?” Fallon asked, interested despite herself.

“The company. Its name started with a ‘V’.”

“Vyron?” Monica asked, trying to trigger her memory.

“No, no, something else.”

“VerMed Co?”

“No.” Kirby tapped on the table, staring into her cup as if she could read the answer there.

“Van Kirk Industries.” Fallon offered before she could stop herself. She felt her blood running cold when Kirby’s eyes widened in recognition and she clicked her fingers.

“Exactly.”

_What were these snakes doing? Were they trying to mess with her fiancé?_ Fallon thought to herself, anger boiling in her veins. Why couldn’t she be free of that family? The merger was completed, what was their problem? She suddenly felt pissed at Kirby, for bringing all of this up in the first place.

“And what? You think you’re starring in some kind of mystery novel? About to crack the case?” Fallon snapped, refusing to believe any of this was true. Kirby watched her, a hurt expression on her face.

“News flash, you knockoff Nancy Drew. Just because you figured out who took the baby, doesn’t mean you’re some kind of detective now. Jeff was high on a huge dose of painkillers, clearly. When I was in the room he kept calling Culhane ‘Mike Jones’, whoever _that_ is.” She scoffed, glaring at the barista who was nosily busying himself with cleaning one of the tables near them, even though no one had been seated at that table.

“Why are you so bloody mean to me? Ever since I came back, you’ve wasted no opportunity to roll your eyes at me or—or diss me. You know damn well I didn’t set fire to your bedroom, so why are you still being such a bitch to me?” Kirby yelled.

“Wait, did you say ‘ _Mike Jones’_?” Monica quipped from her seat, completely ignoring Fallon and Kirby’s outburst and pretending it didn’t happen at all. Fallon groaned.

“Ugh, seriously, Monica? You’re not really telling me you believe anything she says, right? This is like the club opening night all over again.”

“And why shouldn’t she believe me?” Kirby snapped. “I’m not some kind of lunatic, _Fallon_. I didn’t fucking hallucinate Jeff telling me all of this.”

“Yeah, Fallon, there’s no need to act like this.” Monica added, a frown on her face. “She was just telling us—“

“She wasn’t telling _us_ anything, she was just trying to make it seem as if Culhane is hiding all of this from me. As _always,_ she was sticking her nose into my life and was trying to ruin it.”

“Christ, Fallon, are you done pretending like the world is revolving around you? I have no reason to make this up.” Kirby hissed.

“Yet you’re obviously lying.”

“It’s _none_ of our fault that you ruined your own marriage to be with this guy who is clearly hiding a lot of shit from you and isn’t planning on telling you any time soon.”

Fallon’s eyes widened and her mouth opened in shock. Before she could say anything else, Monica interrupted.

“Fallon, she’s not lying. I heard some of it too. And ‘Mike Jones’ is the alias of the guy who set fire to my club. The police said that the guy purchased the smoke bombs under that name.”

Fallon felt her world shattering around her as Monica confirmed Kirby’s words.

“What?” Her voice sounded tiny, confused and betrayed, and she found herself filled with panic. She couldn’t deal with that right now, not when they were both watching her with gazes filled with pity. Even Kirby, despite her previous outburst, seemed remorseful, and Fallon felt choked by it all.

 

Half a day later, when Jeff wakes up, he confirms everything and offers even more context. Fallon excuses herself, leaves in a hurry and refuses to even think about it too much on her way to the manor.

By some kind of miracle, she doesn’t run into anyone once she’s inside the house. Before she knows it, she can’t take it anymore. She wants to be done with it. Done with _him_.

She dials Culhane’s number.


	3. Chapter 3

After deciding that she wouldn’t enter their bedroom to make the phone call, Fallon picks another one of the sixteen guest bedrooms available and slams the door behind her, the repeated dial tone filling the silence. She walks over to the bed, calmly, as if in a trance, her mind a complete whirlwind yet clearer than it had ever been. She looks at the curtains and the windows and the drawers, trying to distinguish their outline in the near complete darkness of the room, waiting for her call to be answered.

“Fallon.” Culhane mumbles from the other line. It takes Fallon a few seconds to register the fact that he had, indeed, answered the phone, and to stifle the fury that had spiked up again at the sound of his gruff, emotionless voice.

“You…” Fallon seethes, looking for words.

“You make me _sick._ I know everything, Jeff survived and told me _everything_ ,” she hisses the last word, her eyes glaring at the carpet in front of her. “He told me how you pulled over and hesitated when he _begged_ you to take him to the hospital. What kind of twisted person does that? You disgust me, you hear me?” Her voice had been gradually rising. She takes a shuddering breath, reigning in her anger. “When I think of how many months I’ve wasted with you…and all this time you were lying to my face with no shame. Do you even know how many people you’ve endangered? Jeff almost died, you selfish _fuck_. Monica was hurt and now Liam’s family will be blamed because of you. They could go to prison, do you even realize that? They could lose _everything_. And all for what? So you could get some coins?” Another deep breath.

“You better lose my number and never fucking call or dare to show your face here ever again, or I will call the cops on you and you’ll _rot_ in jail,” Fallon vows, while preparing herself for the final words. “I fucking hate you.”

Fallon hangs up.

She leans over to the nightstand and flicks on the lamp, the golden, warm light filling the bedroom. It takes her a moment to pin point which room she’s in, and when she finally does, she lets out a mocking laugh. What a sick coincidence, for her to end up in what used to be Liam’s room, when breaking up with Culhane. It has been months since he last slept there, obviously, months since he used to live there and pretend he was her husband.

Fallon finds herself suddenly filled with regret. She can’t believe how wrong all her choices had been, so far.

Come to think of it, she feels pretty empty, and even disoriented, as if she doesn’t know what to do with herself next. Now that her engagement was clearly broken off, the wedding wasn’t going to happen either, and the reality of it all hits her, full force. She had invested all she had in her relationship with Culhane, took a wild leap of faith and trusted him, told him the truth every single time... something that clearly hadn’t been mutual.

She never cheated on him with Liam, even though she had had countless opportunities to do so, aside from the divorce party. Even then, she hadn’t completely given in, no matter how right it had felt kissing him or how tempting it had been to take his clothes off and have her way with him right there on that couch. Besides, she had spent every day of the following weeks feeling guilty about it anyway.

Fallon looks a bit around the room, more out of curiosity than anything else, even if she feels like a pathetic, pining teenager while doing so. She half hopes to maybe find…something, there, anything that might’ve belonged to Liam. A forgotten shirt in one of the drawers or one of the books he had brought with him when he had moved in. Nothing, sadly.

She remembers the night when he went away. She had avoided running into him when she heard him come up the stairs to go pack his things, and before she knew it he was gone, no trace of him left. Fallon hadn’t entered that bedroom since, never felt the need, since she had figured it would only remind her of how he just used her and her family the whole time, for his book.

Before she knows it, she impulsively unlocks her phone and digs up one of her safari tabs, which she kept buried among countless business articles and other random things. Ever since Culhane caught her reading articles about Van Kirk Industries, she had felt too guilty to ever look up anything about it or about that family, Liam included, anymore. The true reason why she had still kept that tab open was because she had come across a page full of links to various articles written by _Jack Lowden_ , and she found that reading them was always an entertaining past time. Sometimes she’d even catch herself smirking while reading one particularly clever sentence. She isn’t sure how funny they would seem now, given her current state of mind, but she figures it would at least help her calm down a bit.

After a couple of hours of sitting there, locked in that room and browsing various articles written by him, Fallon finally gets over herself and decides that enough is enough, and that it is beneath _Fallon Carrington_ to just sit around, moping and not being productive at all.

 

She goes looking for Anders to ask him to make the calls necessary to cancel all reservations and inform everyone involved that the wedding was not going to happen. She also mentally prepares for what was to come, social-media-wise. Since it _is_ technically her _third_ wedding in just one year and a half, Fallon readies herself for what the gossip magazines will have to say about it.

Sure, she didn’t _really_ let it get to her, but seeing yourself dragged like that was never fun, even if it would only last until some model had another cheating scandal or until two random rappers decided to publicly feud for attention.

 

 

Not too long after that, she receives a text from Sam.

**_Hey, I heard what happened. Do you wanna talk about it?_ **

(Fallon chooses to ignore the horrendous sad emoji that had been added next to the words.)

She bursts into Sam’s bedroom, phone in hand.

“Seriously? We live in the same house. Did you really have to text me from the other side of the manor?” She deadpans and Sam grins at her.

“Hey, why not? Besides, I am _way_ too busy packing.”

Fallon raises an eyebrow in mild confusion and Sam continues, gesturing toward the pile of designer clothes thrown over his bed.

“I’m going to Paraguay to drag Steven back here. He should at least get to come with us to the Ritz.”

“To the Ritz?” Fallon furrows her brows, searching her memory for any mention of a trip to that hotel.

“Oh, I guess I didn’t tell you about that.” Sam shakes his head. He watches Fallon as she inevitably notices the crumpled paper bag forgotten on the table. He grins seeing her disgusted frown. “Please tell me that’s _not_ fast food.”

“Kirby craved some and she asked me to tag along. Plus, I realized it’s been way too long since I last ate at one.”

Fallon’s nose scrunches up.

“Yes, definitely something to miss.”

“Anyway,” Sam says as he takes out a pair of ripped, light gray jeans from the rack and studies them, deeming them good enough to bring with him to Paraguay and throwing them over the rest of the clothes. “We were sitting there, in the booth, savoring our French fries—“

“ _At least_ tell me you weren’t dipping them in ice cream.”

“Guilty.”

Fallon groans.

“As I was saying,” He continues, unperturbed. “That’s when we decided to plan this whole trip. You know, to celebrate everyone being okay, in an unforgettable way.” Sam explains, checking the sleeve of a leather jacket. “We already asked Blake and he is down. Kirby invited Jeff and Monica and they’re both coming. You should, too.” He looks at Fallon, concern painted on his features, despite his best efforts to seem nonchalant.

“I don’t know.” Fallon replies.

“Well, think about it, okay? It won’t be the same without you there. But in the meantime, there are other ways to get away from…all of this. Atlanta, I mean,” He waves his hand in the general direction of the garden. “I’m taking one of the jets, why don’t you come with me?”

“To Paraguay?” Fallon asks incredulously. “Full offense but I’m not in a rush to return there, considering what happened last time.”

“Who says you _have_ to go there? We can make a stop along the way and you can travel to any place your rich heart desires.” He jokes, and Fallon huffs, smiling fondly. Sam always got her in a good mood, no matter how hard she tried to stay pissed.

“Maybe you might want to…I don’t know,” Sam lets his words hang in the air as he smooths the creases of a black shirt with a golden collar, seemingly deep in thought. “Reunite with another certain rich hottie, who also happens to be travelling right now?”

Fallon groans.

“I’m serious,” Sam insists.

“I _just_ broke the engagement with Culhane. What’s the point of just jumping into another relationship, three seconds later?”

“It’s not _just_ another relationship. It’s more than that and you know it. You never really seemed to get over Liam, even after you committed to Culhane. I’m just saying that what you two have is clearly something worth keeping. And like Blake said, life’s too short to spend it without chasing after what, or _who_ , you really want. This is your chance to be with someone who clearly loves you a lot.”

“That’s a good speech, maybe you should’ve been the one to get into politics, not Steven.” Fallon teases, trying to distract herself. However, Sam’s words are stuck in the back of her mind, no matter how hard she tries to brush them off.

“You know I’m right. And you also know I’ve always liked Liam better for you. And not just because he was my extremely handsome date during your wedding to Jeff.”

“Can we _not_ talk about my wedding to Jeff? Please?” Fallon rolls her eyes.

“Agreed, but I always meant to ask. How did you get Liam to marry you? How did that whole conversation even go?”

“I just…asked him to do it, offered him the money and he agreed.” Fallon shrugged.

“Just like that?” Sam wondered, his eyes wide. When Fallon nods, Sam shakes his head.

“Wow. You know he’s the real deal when he agrees to a crazy plan like that one. Or to any kind of scheme you ever came up with while he was here.” Sam says, clearly impressed.

Silence settles over them, interrupted only by the sound of Sam riffling through various outfits, while Fallon considers his words.

“Should I do it?”

“Hmm?” Sam asks from behind the racks of shirts.

“Should I go find Liam?”

“Yes! Go for it.” Sam encourages her.

“I don’t even know _where_ he is. I know he said he’d go to Paris, Dubai and Vienna, but I have no idea in what order or how long he’s staying in either of them.”

Sam walks over her and slings an arm over her shoulder.

“See, _this_ is where paparazzi and update accounts come in handy. I’m sure you’ll find some candids of him on the streets of Paris after less than 2 minutes of scrolling.” Sam explains, grinning. “Now _go_ and pack your stuff,” He ushers her towards her room.

“By the way!” Sam shouts after her. “We’re leaving tomorrow, as soon as possible.”

“For you that means noon, at the earliest!” Fallon answers.

“Rude!” Sam calls out, feigning offense.

Fallon rolls her eyes, unable to stop herself from smirking. She was so lucky to have someone like Sam in her life. They all were, Steven most of all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for making you wait so much, I promise Fallon and Liam reunite soon!!


	4. Chapter 4

Over the past 3 weeks, Liam had seen countless locations in numerous cities, each wonderful in their own unique way. He had visited castles, museums, he had walked down streets with historical charm and pretty architecture. However, none of that managed to take his mind off of Fallon. No matter where he was, whether he was at a chic café in Paris or sipping a Manhattan in Dubai, he’d always somehow be reminded of her. And not just because he was contacted daily by various gossip magazines. By now, he had actually saved their numbers into his contacts list, after one too many calls from Buzzfeed about whether he’ll attend Fallon’s wedding or not. And it wasn’t just that, either.

One specific day his notifications started particularly blowing up, and the stream of people @’ing him on Twitter or Instagram hasn’t stopped ever since. After a bit of lurking he figured out that the day when people started tagging him in all kinds of posts about him, Fallon or Culhane (or all three of them, sometimes) was the day the press caught word that Fallon started looking for wedding dresses. 

Youtube, especially, made it its mission to recommend him various Fallon-related videos and place them at the top of his recommendations.

_73 Questions With Fallon Carrington | Vogue_

_Fallon avoiding the question for 2 minutes and 23 seconds straight_

_15 Facts about Fallon Carrington you didn’t know about_

(Spoiler alert, some of these facts were completely wrong. They tried, though, Liam had to give them that.)

He had stopped browsing social media altogether once he figured out he wasn’t over Fallon enough for him to scroll through his timeline without getting his feelings hurt—yet. Yet, that’s what he told himself. Yet.

Once he muted all the notifications his life seemed to get easier. Vienna seemed more interesting and he truly began enjoying his trip. Finally.

 

 

A couple of days after that, he intended to head out for an evening stroll through the city, although seeing all the couples laughing as they cooed over handmade winter decorations, while sipping mulled wine and walking hand in hand, did make him feel significantly lonelier. He was just exiting the shower, when his phone rang again. It was the third time since he began his shower. Figuring he might as well see who it was – who knows, maybe Fallon had finally said yes to the dress and TMZ wanted to hear his opinion on it— he padded over to the nightstand, where his phone was charging.

He picked it up and froze for a moment, staring at the screen in disbelief.

**_Incoming call…_ **

**_Fal_ **

He answered the phone, his heart suddenly thumping loudly inside his chest.

 _“Liam?”_ Fallon’s voice filled his right ear and he relished the sound of her slightly raspy voice.

“Fallon?” He wanted to make sure this wasn’t somehow a vivid dream. He heard her sharp inhale on the other side of the line.

 _“Are you staying at the Imperial?”_ Her voice was slightly muffled by the sound of passing cars.

“No, the Grand.” Liam answered, a little bit puzzled.

 _“Ooh, not bad, not bad at all. You’ve got taste. Although I must admit I would’ve chosen the Imperial.”_ She joked, but it sounded hollow, as if she was trying to make up for what she truly felt beneath her unfazed, unbreakable façade. When she continued, her tone was serious.

 _“Listen, can I come over? Or maybe you could meet me somewhere? I want to…talk to you.”_ She spoke the last sentence with an uncharacteristic, unsure voice, as if she half expected him to coldly reject her and hang up. As if Liam could ever deny her anything.

 

Less than 30 minutes later, Liam exits the hotel’s lobby, a gust of harsh winter air surrounding him instantly. He scans the busy street, looking for Fallon’s silhouette amongst the bustling crowd of passer byes. And when he finally sees her, across the street, in a beautiful cream coat with a lavender scarf wrapped around her neck, his breath catches in his throat. He can’t believe this is real.

He takes a few steps towards her and she does the same, hurriedly. They meet right in the middle of the street and probably the most surprising thing about all of this is that she wraps her arms around him in a swift move, catching him off guard, yet of course he hugs her back. He catches a whiff of her perfume, bold and fresh and so unbelievably _Fallon._

They must be so annoying to the other people, Liam supposes, since they’re right in the middle of the street, getting in everyone’s way. He can’t find it in himself to give a damn. He kisses her cheek softly, like an afterthought, as she –reluctantly, it would seem—leans back a little. Their arms are still wrapped around each other and Fallon looks at him and smirks, her eyes sparkling under the lights of the streetlamps.

There’s _no_ way Fallon Carrington travelled all the way to Europe to find him. No way. This _must_ be a dream. 

“Hello to you too.” Liam says jokingly and Fallon looks away a little, a smile tugging at her lips. “This is unexpected, I have to say. How’d you even know I was in Vienna?” He asks, and Fallon faces him again.

“People recognized you and posted that you were in Vienna.” She’s clearly suppressing a wide smirk as Liam’s lips form an “oh” and he nods, chuckling a bit. “Or did you forget you used to be ‘Mr. Fallon Carrington’?” Fallon adds, her fondness having never left her face.

Eventually though, they can’t ignore the obvious question looming over them anymore, and Liam breaks the ice.

“Fallon? Why are you really here?” He inquires, and his brows furrow. Fallon frowns, pulling away and tugging at the edges of her coat. “Not that I’m complaining.”

Fallon lightly rolls her eyes, lips twitching.

“It’s a long story.” She says, obviously not ready to let it all out.

“Hate to reply with that cliché answer but, I’ve got time.” Liam shrugs, trying to lighten up the mood.

“I—this was a mistake.” Liam’s pace slows down and his smile leaves his face. _Of course. He should’ve been used to her saying that by now._

Fallon stops too and hurries to explain. “No, no, wait, I mean not _this_. Not _here_ , now. Rather…”

“The wedding with Culhane?” Liam supplies, and maybe he’s just a little bit _too_ satisfied for his own good when she nods.

“We didn’t get married, after all.” She utters as they resume their walk.

“What happened?” He asks, and her honest answer takes him by surprise.

“You mean, apart from me not being able to stop thinking about you? Everyday? For the past weeks?” She scoffs. 

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you either.” Liam admits, and she turns to look at him, searching his eyes. He stares back at her, earnestly. The expression on her face is probably indescribable, a mix of regret and fondness and sadness and vague hope, the look of someone who knows they can’t turn back time but definitely wishes they could. The look of someone who’s aware they made the wrong choice and wishes they could undo it, Liam realizes as he watches the purse of her lips.

He’s not about to hold it against her, however. This is not the time for ‘I told you so’s and it will most likely never be. And that’s alright.

“Liam.” Fallon voices, as if to capture all of his attention. As if he hadn’t been hanging on to her every word, movement or expression since they were reunited.

He nods, letting her know that he’s listening.

“I wish I chose you.” Fallon says softly, staring into his eyes.

“You still can.” Liam replies.

“Do you really mean that?”

“I never told you anything I didn’t mean.” Fallon takes a deep breath at his words, surprised by their raw honesty.

She looks at him for a few charged seconds and then she makes up her mind and dives in suddenly, cupping his face as she kisses him. Liam’s only surprised for a short second before he kisses her back, deepening the kiss and pulling her closer. Fallon’s lips are warm and he can taste her lipstick as it smudges onto his own lips. Her hands play with his hair, undoubtedly messing it up and he smiles into the kiss, amused. He feels her lips hesitantly mirroring his smile and he is, at this point, sure that this is too perfect to be true.

They break the kiss after a while, still embracing each other. Liam grins cheekily.

“So, does that mean—“

“Yes. Yes, of course.” Fallon confirms softly, her thumbs playfully tracing his dimples.

“Finally.” He sighs, throwing his head back, and Fallon rolls her eyes, tapping his shoulder.

“You better get back to kissing me.” And that’s exactly what Liam does. He kisses Fallon. Again, and again, and again, each kiss more fervent than the last one, all of their buried feelings coming back to the surface and filling every press of their lips.

“Perhaps you’d be interested in going back to the hotel? We should catch up.” Liam suggests, a glint in his eyes. Fallon raises an eyebrow, amused yet undeniably intrigued. The air is suddenly different, charged with something else entirely.

“You mean…make up for the lost time.” Fallon says, tracing a finger down his jaw. Liam’s hums, watching her with lidded eyes. His gaze is intense and his voice is low, tempting.

“Trust me, I know the perfect way.”

**__ **

Morning finds them covered by the fluffy bedsheets, Fallon’s back pressed to Liam’s chest, his right arm wrapped around her and their legs tangled together. The hotel room is surprisingly bright for a winter day. He blinks, letting the sunlight wash over his face.

They had been lazily waking up and then falling asleep again all morning, waking up to share a caress, a look or some sweet nothings and then closing their eyes and dozing off again. Liam gently moves a strand of hair obscuring her cheek and peers down at Fallon’s sleeping face, so peaceful and without any worries. She looks divine, sitting there, bathed by the morning light and Liam cannot help himself. He leans down, ever so lightly pressing a kiss to her bare shoulder. Fallon’s eyes flutter open.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up.” He mouths against her neck, his voice deep. Fallon sighs and rolls over, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“I don’t mind you waking me up like this.” Fallon smirks, her fingers already threading through his hair again. Liam closes his eyes for a moment, enjoying the sensation. The quiet moment is rudely interrupted, however, by the loud sound of his phone ringing and they both groan simultaneously. He reaches over to the nightstand, trying to find his phone. Fallon doesn’t miss the opportunity and she teasingly presses an open mouthed kiss on his exposed neck. Liam chuckles fondly, but his laugh dies in his throat when he sees who exactly is calling him.

His mother’s number is glaring at him from the screen. He frowns and steels himself. However, nothing could have prepared him for what he hears next.

_“Mind explaining why your ex-wife’s driver is trying to frame us for drug trafficking?”_


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry, this chapter is a bit too long, but I didn't want to split it into 2 separate chapters.

As he got off the private jet in New York, Liam swept his gaze across the airport runway, looking for Laura. She was nowhere to be seen, but he assumed she was waiting for him inside the sleek black Mercedes parked a little farther away from the plane. The car was surrounded by at least 6 heavily equipped guards and Liam rolled his eyes. He quickly walked over to the car and got inside, already preparing for the rant that was sure to come.

After a mandatory exchange of greetings, an unexpected, heavy silence settled over them as Laura dug through her purse, looking for something. She pulled out a whole binder and opened it gracefully, thumbing through the files and pulling out a couple of them. She “handed” them to him by jerking her wrist, enough to make the papers land in his lap before he had a chance to reach out to grab them. Swallowing his annoyance at the gesture, Liam flipped the pages, and was greeted with the unmistakable face of Michael Culhane, his expression grim as always. _How he hated this guy._

“Do you know this man?” Laura inquired.

After a couple more seconds of staring at Culhane’s perpetually pained features, Liam raised his head and was met with the green, piercing gaze of Laura, who had been studying him with a mild frown pulling at her lips.

“…Yes.”

“I figured as much. I assume he’s not _just_ the Carrington driver.”

“No.” Liam replied curtly.

Laura arched an eyebrow. “Obviously. He’s _also_ the one who delivered the vases full of heroin to our head of deliveries.” She settled back into the seat, watching him with increasing satisfaction. “What else is he, hmm?” She asked, awaiting his answer with unblinking eyes. She wanted to hear him say it.

Liam ground his teeth.

“Fallon’s…lover.” He sighed in defeat, feeling drained.

Laura smirked slightly. “The one she left you for?”

“Yes.” He bit out.

“Of course.” Whether she was pleased at figuring this out or at Liam admitting it, it was unclear. But Liam had a suspicion it was the latter, rather than the former.

“So not only was Fallon cheating on you, she was cheating on you with a member of her _staff._ ” She remarked. Liam dearly hoped it was rhetorical. Laura didn’t wait for him to say anything before continuing. “So? Why is this happening? Was your sex game really that bad that she wanted to make this entire family collectively pay for it?”

Liam internally groaned, as Laura eyes him disdainfully from the other side of the backseat. “Well? Are you going to explain?”

“Explain what? Fallon and I had an amicable split.”

Laura scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Clearly.”

“Fallon wouldn’t do something like this. I _know_ her.” Liam snapped, gripping the printed photos tightly. “Whatever this is, it’s something planned entirely by Culhane.”

Laura’s eyes narrowed. “And how are you so sure?”

“Because she told me!” Liam snapped. “We saw each other in Vienna…last night.”

Laura sneered.

“I’m glad your little rendezvous was more important than bothering to get to New York as fast as you could, to see your _family_ at such a critical moment. When the whole business is in danger.”

“No, you don’t understand. She explained everything. She just found out that he was working with a woman– _Ada Stone_. He was doing her dirty work, doing all kinds of shady deliveries for her. One night, she sent him with this delivery of antiques, and when he saw that the trucks had Van Kirk Industries on them, he freaked out and opened a crate and broke that vase. Inside, there was the heroin. And then the FBI came, but he escaped—” Liam frantically explained, desperately trying to make her understand. Her expression, however, was impenetrable.

“So she fed you some new lies.” Laura drawled, after he was finished. “Wow, _Liam_ , you really didn’t inherit anything valuable from this family’s genes.” She tutted, shaking her head.

“They weren’t lies. You met her once. You don’t even know her. Not like I do. I _love_ her.”

“Do you even hear yourself?” Laura snapped, glaring at him. “She has you wrapped around her little finger. If the sun was shining outside and this whore told you it was raining, you’d believ—”

“Don’t call her that.” Liam hissed, his voice dangerously low. “You can call me whatever you want, I don’t care, but I won’t just sit here and allow you to talk about her like that. Not now. Not ever.” After a beat of stunned silence, Laura broke out into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. Liam frowned and threw the crumpled up papers away.

“You’d better go and warn Fallon, then. _Michael_ won’t make it back home one of these nights.”

Her shrill laughter made his skin crawl with unease and followed him as he got out of the car, shoving the door on his way out.

 

 

It was way too cold to wander the streets of New York for too long, even clad in his dark navy blue coat, so Liam eventually entered a café and ordered something, sitting down at a spare table and rubbing his hands together, trying to chase the cold away.

His phone _pinged_ and he looked down at the screen. It was George, his step father, telling him that the rest of the Van Kirk ‘clan’ and other shareholders will arrive in about 2 hours, and that he, too, should be there. At least _someone_ bothered to tell him that, Liam thought to himself. He replied to the message, thanking George, and then shook his head, taking a sip of the warm beverage in front of him.

It hadn’t even been three hours since he arrived in New York and his family already managed to give him a headache.

Considering the traffic in New York was, as always, despicable, Liam decided not to waste any more time. He took his coffee with him and exited the shop, deciding to wave a cab over and head straight for the Upper East Side, where most of his family resided.

 

 

Liam was welcomed inside by one of the butlers, and led past many saloons, filled with expensive, old furniture and various paintings that were worth at least five figures each. He remembered all of these rooms from when he was a little child. _It hasn’t changed that much,_ Liam noted.

As the butler took a turn to the left, he eyed the corridor on the right with a nostalgic gaze. That was the one that led the library. He used to spend hours and hours sitting there, admiring the ceiling-high shelves filled with all kinds of first edition novels. He loved to read there, sometimes for hours, as it was also a way of escaping and spending some time away from his family.

His father, John, was always abroad, doing business. His mother didn’t pay that much attention to him back then; she was busy shopping all day or going on trips with her _entourage_. When she started “paying attention” to him, after his father passed away, it was always in a negative way, to scold him for some thing or another, to yell at him for every little mistake, to criticize him every time she saw him.

His little sister was kind of insufferable, really, and she always had some girl friends over. They would shriek and run around the halls, being all kinds of obnoxious and trying to boss the staff around.

Another thing that they loved doing was antagonizing his dachshund, Layla. In fact, this was one of their favorite activities. They would always pretend they were competing for some dog training contest. They’d dress Layla up in doll clothes, put a tiara over her small head and make her jump around obstacles made up of various toys. Sometimes, Layla’s short legs would get caught in the toys and she’d trip, probably hurting herself in the process. His sister and her friends would just tug the leash attached to her collar and make her repeat the jump. They did this for hours and hours, not caring that poor Layla was completely exhausted by the time they got bored.

Liam did his best to prevent this from happening whenever he could, but sometimes he’d be away at school or out with some friends, and he’d come home after his sister had already gotten her hands on her favorite “living toy” and “had fun with her”. Every time Liam would find out about this, he’d scoop Layla up in his arms, petting her affectionately and taking her away with him, to his room or to the library, and letting her rest on the leather couch.

He complained many times to his mother about this and begged her to talk to his sister, to convince her to stop doing that to Layla. Liam told her that Layla was suffering because of his sister’s immature “games”, but Laura didn’t care one bit. She never reprimanded her for any of this.

 

Liam brushed the painful memory off. To this day, he always got sad whenever he remembered what his poor Layla had to endure for years, before she was…shot by his own father, during hunting season.

He entered the dark study and helped himself to some brandy from the silver plate.

“Oh, you’re here.” Laura drawled from her seat behind the huge mahogany desk, barely looking up from her papers. “I was beginning to think you changed your name and left the state. Again.”

Liam closed his eyes in irritation, and made the most of the few seconds left during which it was acceptable to have his back turned to Laura, as he was still pouring his drink.

When he turned around and took a sip of his drink, he made eye contact with the other two people in the room, besides his mother. Mark Van Kirk, his great uncle, curtly nodded at him and George, his step father, offered him a friendly smile. Liam felt a little bit better, for a while. It was good to have someone around who wasn’t poker faced or sneering or hiding their true intentions behind malicious smiles, all the time.

Other shareholders, the ones from the very top of Van Kirk Industries’ hierarchy, quietly entered the study and in less than fifteen minutes, all the invited “guests” had gathered. Laura cleared her throat, capturing everyone’s undivided attention.

“Welcome. I have called you here to discuss a very serious matter that concerns all of us and, most importantly, our family business.” She quickly cut to the chase. “I won’t waste your time with any formalities. Simply because there’s no time for that. As you already know, only a few days ago, Nico Russo, our head of deliveries, encountered a shipment that had been tampered with and filled with packages of heroin, by the very people who delivered the crates to our men. These criminals ran off, but not after they had called the FBI. To summarize, the FBI is now investigating our company, looking into our every shipment, past and present, to discover any… _illegitimate_ business. We had been able to prove that Van Kirk Industries had nothing to do with the drugs, but even if that is out of the equation, we still have to account for the fact that we were expecting _black market_ antiques, and were willing to ship them all the way to the other side of the States.”

She paused and then continued.

“Other than that, you are all aware that that is not the only illicit shipment. Naturally, none of them was as bad as drug trafficking, but they are still…problematic enough to give our company a bad reputation, if word ever gets out.”

Mark started speaking.

“So far, we’ve managed to avoid any media exposure concerning this issue, thanks to a large amount of money. But it can’t stay that way forever. We need to erase any digital tracks of these illegal shipments, as well as any physical proof of them ever happening.”

A shareholder voiced, her voice calm and collected.

“My husband has some connections in the FBI, I’m sure he can ask them to pull some strings to get us out of this. If that doesn’t work, we can always get our way if it comes down to judges, it won’t take much. A private island here, a brand new estate there, I’m sure they won’t come up with anything too bad to accuse us of.”

Laura nodded tensely.

“And what happens to the one who set us up? The guy responsible for the delivery?” Another shareholder inquired, his hands crossed over his chest.

“He’ll be taken care of, rest assured.” Mark responded, the implication more than clear.

The shareholders soon left, after agreeing that if they had anything to reveal or ask about during the following investigation, they should say it in person and not write any emails, send any texts or make any calls.

Mark stayed behind, and Liam got the cue and left with George. He didn’t hear anything, as he shut the heavy door and made his way towards the living room, along with George.

 

 

Laura waited for the sound of Liam and George’s idle conversation to fade away before speaking, her voice cold.

“What are you planning to do about him?” She asked Mark, who was staring at the papers from the folder, scanning over them with his eyes. His fingers stopped flipping the pages when he found the set of photos taken of—

" _Michael Culhane_.” He said the name aloud, the name filling the quiet study for a short second. Laura hummed lowly in acknowledgement.

Mark furrowed his brows.

“It says here he used to be driver for the Carrington family, in Atlanta. Aren’t they Liam’s in-laws?” He muttered, taking his eyes away from the blurry, grey and green security camera footage of Culhane.

Laura nodded.

“You think they had something to do with this?” Mark asked, focusing on the photo of him holding the car door open for a man that he assumed to be Blake Carrington. The photo was from a few years ago.

“I doubt it.” Laura answered. “Prior to your arrival, I received a call from one of my… reliable sources that confirmed some of the information that Liam just told me, earlier today. Fallon Carrington—Liam’s ex-wife—used to be engaged to this… _Culhane_ individual. She broke off the engagement less than two days after the heroin delivery, which cannot be a coincidence.” She explained indifferently.

“Yes, well, maybe they were just trying to cover up their tracks. Make it seem like they weren’t actually involved.” Mark suggested.

“Blake Carrington hired some people to find him.” Laura disclosed, getting up from her chair and coming around the desk, and tapped her fingers on a photo of Culhane crawling on the ground, visibly battered. There were bloody stains on the concrete around him, and his clothes were ruffled. Laura turned the page around, to reveal another photo, this time of two cars parked close to one another. She pointed with a perfectly manicured finger to an old man who was handing a wide, yellow envelope undoubtedly filled with cash, to a group of bulky men.

“This is Joseph Anders, their butler—as Liam said and as my source later confirmed. He is seen here paying the men that later beat Michael Culhane up. Three days ago I had them all followed, especially the staff. To see if they knew anything, if they would lead us to this man. Given all of this, I think it’s safe to say they found out and are just as angry as us. As of now, he’s on the run. But not for long.” Her voice was impersonal, her face unreadable.

“Well, we have his family’s information. After we find him, we’ll contact them, let them know that their beloved Michael booked and boarded a flight.” Mark said darkly.

“And?” Laura raised an eyebrow, a sinister smirk on her lips.

“And never landed.” Mark finished with a grin that was all teeth.

 

 

Two men with dark trench coats approached George and Liam. They exuded an air of dark mystery, their whole presence shrouded in secrecy, and Liam instantly knew that they were a little bit more than private investigators. They nodded at George, clearly recognizing him.

“This is for Mrs. Van Kirk. It’s all that we could find among the remains of the burned vehicle that our target left behind.”

George accepted the large metal briefcase that one of them handed to him. It was wrapped in a see through, thick plastic cover.

The men left just as quickly as they had arrived, and Liam connected the dots inside his head. That briefcase was found in Culhane’s getaway car. Or rather, what was left of it. He watched George leave with the briefcase in his arms, and followed him as he entered Laura’s bedroom and set it on the bed. His curiosity grew with each moment that passed. He pretended to leave with his stepfather, and waited for him to get out of sight. Liam dashed inside the bedroom, shutting the door quietly behind him. If he was going to do this, he had to be quick. His stepfather surely went to let Laura know what had finally arrived for her, and she’d be here in less than three minutes, at most.

He quickly took the briefcase out of the plastic bag, his heart beating fast. He took a short breath before opening it and glancing at its contents.

A lot of hundred dollar bills in thick stacks, held together by thin rubber bands. A gun. Some spare bullets.

All of that, however, paled in comparison to the small box shoved to the corner. A small label on top of it read ‘Max Van Kirk’ and Liam’s stared blankly at it for a few heavy seconds. He could hear each beat of his heart in the deafening silence of the bedroom. He reached with shaky fingers and grabbed the tiny box, opening it. Inside, there was a memory card. He touched it gingerly with the tip of his finger, as if it would dissolve under his touch.

Liam suddenly realized that he had wasted precious time that he just couldn’t afford to waste. He made up his mind, shutting the box and slipping it in his jacket’s pocket. He quickly locked the briefcase and wrapped it in the plastic bag again, his mind blank and his hands seemingly doing it all on their own.

He quickly slipped out of the bedroom, letting the door open, and hurried off, rounding a corner just as Laura and George’s steps could be heard approaching.

 

 

The rest of the day, the small box hidden inside his jacket seems to weigh ten times more than it actually does, as if it is filled with lead. Liam doesn’t dare to take it out of his pocket until he gets home, back to his apartment in Atlanta. He locks his apartment’s door, goes straight to his laptop and slides the card inside, more anxious than he ever remembers being.

The only thing on the card is a video file.

escort_testimony.avi

He clicks on it, the woman’s shaky voice filling his living room. Four minutes in, and the only thing registering in Liam’s mind is…

_“Fallon Carrington blackmailed me into killing Max Van Kirk.”_


	6. Chapter 6

Liam stared with empty eyes at his laptop screen, the tired face of the escort staring back at him, frozen on the screen with a replay icon plastered right over her trench coat. His mind was a whirlwind of chaotic thoughts. Did Fallon really plot his uncle’s murder? But why would she do any of this? And if that was true, did that mean that the Carringtons were really trying to ruin his family’s company?

Just then, his phone’s screen lit up. He opened the notification, puzzled.

_Sam added you to ‘SKI RESORT IN 3 DAYS’_

_Sam: so… I think this is everyone_

Other people started typing, all at once.

He eyed the group in confusion, looking at the profile pic that was obviously taken from the “Aspen” google search. The other members were Fallon, Steven, Sam (obviously), Blake and 4 other numbers that he didn’t have in his contacts list. Judging by the profile pics, he could identify the Colby siblings, but there still were 2 other unknown numbers that he didn’t recognize.

He decided to ignore the group for now, opting to call Fallon instead. He desperately needed an explanation for the testimony that he had just witnessed.

After just two rings, he changed his mind and came to the conclusion that there’s no way they could possibly have that conversation over the _phone_ , so he hanged up. He grabbed a jacket and his car keys, rushing out of his apartment. He had barely been home for 40 minutes.

The closer he got to the Carrington Manor, the more his anger faded, being gradually replaced by a deep sadness. They had _just_ gotten together, finally, for real, for the first time. He thought they had a real shot at happiness. He thought he’d grow accustomed to her spending the night at his place, to them showing up to various parties together, hand in hand, but now, the reality of them being together suddenly didn’t seem to be so easy to achieve. The more he pondered it, the more it seemed to hang on the edge of falling apart, now that the possibility of her plotting against his family was part of the equation.

Liam didn’t _believe_ Fallon did any of it, per se, but there was also a part of him that feared that it might just be true, that Laura had been right all along and that Fallon had preyed on his emotions and betrayed him, in the most twisted of ways.

He told himself he’d at least give her the chance to explain, he owed her that. If the La Perla party taught him anything, it was how awful, frustrating and unfair it felt to not be given the chance to defend yourself and share your side of the story. He wasn’t going to make the same mistake that Fallon made.

Before officially entering Carrington property, he stopped by the spot where a guard was always carefully monitoring who exactly wanted to visit the Carringtons and why. He rolled down the window, peering at the security man, while reaching for his ID.

“Liam Ridley. Fallon isn’t expecting me but—“

When he heard his name, the guard waved a hand, gesturing to the driveway leading to the Manor.

“No need. Miss Carrington specifically requested that you be put on the exclusive list. You may go.” The guard explained nonchalantly, allowing him to get past the gates, no questions asked.

 

 

 

 

Fallon lounged on a chic futon, watching as three of the maids picked from their staff took turns putting together different outfits and holding them in front of Fallon, so that she could pick from them and decide exactly which ones she planned on taking with her to the ski resort.

“Well, I guess I don’t hate this one, but the green jacket is too much. Pack the black one instead. The one with the silver buttons.” She scrunched up her nose at Nancy and gestured for Ellie to come forward.

“Hm, this one definitely has potential. Pair it with the purple coat. The one with the black fur collar. And not with _that_ beret.” She called out as Ellie eagerly nodded and made her way towards Fallon’s enormous walk in closet, the size of almost two bedrooms.

Just before Jenny could come forward with another outfit, Liam entered the room, his lips in a thin line and his expression grim.

Fallon’s face broke into a beaming smile, and she stood up excitedly.

“Liam!”

He didn’t seem to share her enthusiasm.

“Fallon? We need to talk.” He intoned. One of the women loudly ruffled a puffy Moncler jacket and he threw her a pointed look. “Alone.” He added, and the three women got the message, scrambling to get out of the room.

Fallon came closer to him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. She watched him, smirking.

“Mr. Ridley, paying me a surprise visit? How thoughtful of you. And so late at night, too…” She purred, leaning in for a kiss. When Liam avoided her, and her lips touched his cheek instead, she pulled away, pursing her lips.

“Is something wrong?” She asked, her voice unsure. She suddenly realized that there was definitely something wrong. Liam’s gaze was steely and unreadable, staring into her wide-eyed one.

“You tell me.” Liam replied coldly, reaching up and unwrapping her arms from around his neck. Her arms fell limply to her side and she furrowed her brows in confusion. “Fallon, is there _anything_ you want to tell me? Anything I need to know?” He asked, holding eye contact.

“No, nothing that I remember of,” Fallon breathed, shaking her head and staring blankly at him. Liam took a few steps away from her, sighing. “Liam, what is this about, I—“

“Let me be more specific.” He said, vague frustration creeping into his voice. “Is there anything about our trip to _New York_ , in November, that you want to tell me about?” He asked, offering her a last chance to confess everything on her own.

Fallon’s eyes widened for a brief moment, panic filling her veins in less than a second. She blinked a few times, then shook her head. Liam huffed, obviously catching the moment when it had all dawned on her.

“Unbelievable. You’re really going to lie to my face about this?” He sneered.

“This isn’t—“ Fallon faltered, looking anywhere but at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She replied with new found, overplayed confidence, feigning indifference. Liam narrowed his eyes.

“So, there’s nothing about Uncle _Max_ that I should know about?”

Fallon looked at him defiantly, and shrugged, continuing her game of pretending to be clueless.

“Then maybe you can explain why this prostitute claims that you _blackmailed_ her into killing my uncle.” He snapped, taking the box with the recorded testimony out from his pocket and holding it up, so that Fallon could see it.

“ _What_? Wait, what the hell?” Fallon hissed, quickly snatching the box from Liam’s fingers and opening it with shaky fingers. Her process of discovery was abruptly interrupted when she found the memory card inside and realized there was no computer nearby, so she couldn’t watch its contents. She exhaled, her head spinning.

“Look, Liam, anything on that card… I can assure you it’s nothing but lies.” She said, looking at him earnestly.

“Oh, really?” Liam said, raising his eyebrows mockingly.

“Yes!” Fallon said, becoming desperate as each moment passed and Liam continued to just stare at her, his hands crossed over his chest and his eyes cold. _When have they turned so damn cold?_

“Please, you have to trust me.” Fallon closed the distance between them, taking one of his hands in both of hers, the small box feeling heavy between their palms, as if it was intruding into their intimate moment, preventing their hands from complete contact. Liam visibly softened, a little bit of his anger melting away at the uncharacteristic, affectionate touch.

“Then give me a reason to trust you, Fallon. Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me that I was right when I stole this box before my mother had a chance to watch what was inside it.” He pleaded, his voice broken, having lost all of its biting edge from earlier.

Fallon’s eyes moved rapidly, still debating whether or not she should tell him. Her mouth opened slightly, and Liam continued, his voice gaining finality.

“Tell me the truth, or we’re done.” He said, his eyes stinging.

Fallon’s eyes filled with actual tears at his words, and she took in a shuddering breath.

“No, no.” She rasped, fighting to hold back tears.

“Tell me, or I’m walking out that door. And I’m _never_ coming back.” Liam said, trying to move to the door.

“No!” Fallon cried out, squeezing his hand. “Please don’t do this. Don’t leave me.”

 “Then give me a reason to _stay_.” Liam hissed through his teeth, trying to mask the fact that the sight of Fallon’s pleading, crying face as she desperately clung to him filled him with unbelievable amounts of pain and regret. He’d never seen that side of her, so vulnerable. So broken.

“He asked me to sleep with him. He wanted me to _have_ _sex_ with him.” Fallon finally blurted out, her shoulders slumping, the tears flowing over her cheeks.

Liam’s eyes widened, his mouth opening in shock.

“He wouldn’t buy the company if I didn’t do it, when we were at the restaurant and you went t-to answer your p-phone call, he gave…” She paused, shaking as she breathed in. “He gave me a-a key. To his place. And I when I didn’t—he refused to sign the papers.”

“So you killed him?” He asked, already knowing it was a dumb question.

“No! Of course not!” Fallon yelled, glaring at him as she angrily pushed his shoulder. “I told him to give me another chance. The ni…” Another shuddering breath. “The night we were returning to Atlanta, when I told you I was getting a facial, I went to his penthouse. And I—“

“You…you did it? You slept with him?” Liam asked, progressively overcome with more and more fear and guilt as the story unfolded. This whole thing had happened right under his nose and he never noticed anything. She had literally given him the key back right in front of him, and he hadn’t paid it any mind. _Stupid._

Fallon shook her head, shutting her eyes and reigning in her tears.

“I paid an escort. I blindfolded him, and then let her into the penthouse and I left. He had a heart attack while she was…”

“Yeah.” Liam stopped her, understanding what must’ve happened after that.

“I assume she recorded all of that so that she wouldn’t be held accountable for any of it.” Fallon whispered, looking at the floor. Liam placed a hand on her cheek, gently making her face him. His voice was just as quiet when he asked. Liam furrowed his brows, his gaze filled with guilt.

“Why didn’t you tell me any of this? You should’ve told me, we could’ve—”

Fallon tried to give him a bitter laugh, but it sounded forced and choked.

“What? What would you have done? The deal needed to be _done_. I couldn’t let anything stop that.”

“And afterwards? Why did you never tell me?” Liam asked, a sad, betrayed tone accompanying his words.

“You mean after he died?” Fallon raised an eyebrow, shrugging. “There’s no easy way to tell someone, ‘Hey, your uncle tried to sleep with me, even though he knows I’m married to you, his literal nephew’.”

Liam shook his head, staring dejectedly at the carpet. So, another person that he loved turned out to be a piece of shit that didn’t give a fuck about him. He was disappointed, but certainly not surprised, considering this _was_ his family. _The Van Kirks._

“And besides. What was the point? He was your favorite uncle. I knew how much you looked up to him, admired him. I knew how much he meant to you. I didn’t…want to ruin your memory of him, stupid as that sounds.” She sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. Liam’s eyes searched hers, and the humble guilt in them melted Fallon’s heart.

“I…I feel terrible, Fallon. I don’t know what to do, I’m so sorry.”

Fallon waved her hand dismissively, as if she was over it already.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Liam. It wasn’t your fault.”

“And still. I want to make it up to you, if there’s even a way to make up for that. If you’d let me.” He asked, his voice small yet determined.

Fallon sighed.

“How about you begin by taking me somewhere.” When she saw Liam’s eager, yet confused gaze, she continued. “Anywhere. I feel like I’m suffocating. I can’t stay here any longer.”

Liam nodded understandingly, leading her out of the room, a tentative hand on her back.

When they got outside, Liam took off his jacket and gently laid it over her shoulders, since Fallon was only wearing a light dress. They made their way to his car, still parked in the driveway in front of the Manor’s entrance.

“Where to, Fal?” He asked, ready to go anywhere, if that meant she was by his side.

“Your place. If that’s alright with you.”

 

 

 

A few hours later, they were curled up on his bed, a cozy blanket draped over them. Fallon’s head rested on his chest, and she took comfort in listening to his steady heartbeat. His hands were wrapped around her, holding her close protectively.

It was well into the middle of the night, yet they were both still awake. Neither of them spoke too much, content to just hold each other close and enjoy each other’s warmth.

She gently touched one of his hands with her smaller one, and found herself missing the familiar feel of his wedding ring on his left hand. She had grown so used to seeing it there, feeling it there, all the time. She was certain that the simple band of silver would gleam so nicely, bathed in the light of his fireplace.

“You asked me earlier, what you could do to make up to me.” Fallon voiced out of the blue, instantly capturing all of Liam’s attention.

“Of course. Anything you want.” He promised, his voice smooth, low, quiet just like hers.

“Well, for tonight, I just want you to hold me. But when tomorrow comes, I need something else.” She paused, her voice barely above a whisper. Liam’s throat tightened in worry. He was so embarrassed about the way he reacted earlier, he knew if Fallon were to want to stay away from him because of the way he’d reacted tonight, she’d be completely right to do so. He swallowed thickly.

“Yes. Just tell me, and I’ll do it. Anything.”

Fallon raised her head, staring him in the eyes.

“Come with me on that trip to the ski resort.” She smirked slightly, and Liam breathed a sigh of relief.

“Sure,” He nodded with a low chuckle. “I’d love that.”

They shared a slow, sweet, gentle kiss.

“And no more secrets, from now on. Alright?” Liam proposed, and Fallon agreed. She opened her mouth after a moment, suddenly serious. Her gaze was intense, staring into his very soul.

“I really want us to be together, I _want_ this to work out. I want it so much, that it scares me sometimes. And… it consumes me.” She confessed, looking deep into his eyes, yearningly. “I’m so scared of losing you, like I’ve never been scared of anything before, in my entire life. And it terrifies me, because I hate losing control, I hate not knowing how the story ends. I don’t like taking risks. But I feel like,” She paused, watching his face, as she chose her next words. “I feel like what we have is worth it. I _know_ what we have is worth it.”

Liam nodded, not saying anything, hanging onto her every single word. In that moment, listening to her as she poured her heart out to him, he thought that he had never heard anything as beautiful as her voice. Her next words seemingly stopped time, for a brief second.

“I love you, Liam.”

“I love you too, Fallon.”

 

__

_ THE END _


End file.
